


Consanguinity

by yuraan



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Backstory spoilers, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 07:49:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11824272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuraan/pseuds/yuraan
Summary: Budding doubts and deadlines licking at his heels, the words of his mother willed him to visit the past.





	Consanguinity

Warm fingers met stiff, cold ones. A small hand wormed its way into the other’s hold, gripped and squeezed at it. It tugged and tugged, yet no response. Pulling away, fingers made work of tracing the other’s knuckles.

A child’s voice rang out, “Mom?”

Innocence gazed over the scene displayed in front of him. The normally pristine tub lacked anything but stains in its current state. A childish curiosity rubbed at the dark red stains with its finger and rubbed it off on its shorts, unpleasant vibes finally reaching the child, straining its ties with purity.

“This isn’t funny anymore.” The child moved up with his hold, grabbing at the unresponsive woman’s arm and pulling at it, “Mom, wake up. You’re gonna get sick if you stay in the tub too long.”

The figure did nothing more than stay silent and slump over at being tugged, water splashing quietly at waist depth. The child groaned in distress and looked down at his mother’s arm, finally examining it closer, turning it over.

A gash stretched vertically across unnaturally pale skin, blood long dry that seemed to have once seeped from the wound.

The depth of the situation pressed down on the youth and in panic, he clambered into the tub, no regards for his shoes and socks getting soaked, blood smearing over his knees. Clammy, unsteady hands pressed against the woman’s shoulders, pushing her back into her upright position. Her hair covered her face and the boy adjusted her, tilting her head back and clearing away what covered her features.

Mouth running dry, the boy took in the distant, milky gaze of the woman and finally recognized the corpse he referred to as his mother, her body there; soul lacking. Eyes falling south, vision stretched onto the eerie harmonization of blood and water, his instincts propelled him to contain his panic and act. As the child moved his way out of the tub, he only allowed himself to spare a glance at the traces of red below his knees.

Pushing out of the bathroom, a phone was his top priority, dialing emergency services once found. A familiar numbness began to settle in his heart as he clutched the phone with both hands, and with each passing dial tone the boy felt the growing bleakness inside of himself that he knew so well.

The child paced around the room, ignoring the unnerving knowledge that there was the rotting corpse of his mother in his bathroom. As vastly accepted, yet not always applicable, a child at his age would be more frightened, more panicked, perhaps even crying at this stage. However, with what life had handed him thus far; all he could do was compartmentalize the event, rationalize his state and of those around him and take action.

Teeth ground together, his mind still attempted to shield his naiveté from finding such a thing in his home, though a part of him knew he would never be able to forget this moment.

Silently, he waited for the operator to answer.

“911. What is your emergency?”

Familiarity with rationalization and underhanded numbness overpowered any amount of panic that could come from the child he truly was, “I….just found my mom dead. She’s dead. I found her in the tub.”

  
The operator went silent for a moment, frazzled by what was obviously a child talking about the situation so calmly, yet continued forth with a softer tone adopted, “Okay, honey, what’s your name?”

The child let out silent tears as he spoke, “Goro Akechi.” He'd never know why those tears spilled. For discovering such a scene or for realizing the dear loss of his mother? It was an enigma to him.

Memory would have it so that Akechi would remember how he robotically followed the dispatcher’s instructions. How he emotionally detached himself from the situation; answering where he was— _some old rundown apartment that was all his mother could afford_ , if he was really sure his mom was dead— _checking once was enough_ , where his father was— _he wish he knew_ , and a series of other questions. The operator had offered him something akin to what he imagined was a mother’s proper kindness as he waited for paramedics and police to arrive.

After he was recovered from the scene, the rest was truly a blur. An orphan, tossed from one foster care to another. Isolated by his own insecurities, lacking any true friends in youth, he confided in only himself. No adult truly filled the role of guidance he lacked.

Determined and driven by emotion, he sought out his father’s identity and a corruption began to seep, swaying the decision of what his life’s purpose would be. However, still a child seeking the praise and acknowledgement by elders that a mother and father lacked to deliver, he strived for academic and social success. Praised by instructors and envied by his peers, Akechi’s sense of superiority was inflated.

Yet, nightmares in his adolescence dragged him back down to his roots— drowned him in the conflict of his thoughts and feelings; the imagery at night of a nurturing hand so quickly contorted into the flash of disgust projected onto a child who had no fault.

Whispers beyond the grave came to him, a mother’s ghost ingraining into him his rightful place. In reality, past what his teachers and fellow students saw, he was a burden. Shameful and a product of a foolish woman and a callous man who thought it best to discard both him and his mother.

As he grew into his later years of adolescence, reality juggled with his feelings towards the woman who birthed him. Goro Akechi loved his mother, of course. How could he not? It was his father to blame for her demise. False endearment shrouded the resentment he truly felt towards his mother. Akechi could not blame her for the actions she committed against him as a child. Or so, he told himself. It was all he had to reassure himself along with rare memories of a loving mother. Yet, when he searched for the visage of his mother delivering love, all he could find in the recesses of his mind was that corpse.

Many years passed, a corpse long rotted and his past hidden, it all seemed as if a dream. How he presented himself now was the complete opposite of his expected outcome considering his past. A disguise so carefully constructed to aid to his goal. Yet, unbeknownst to him, so easily picked apart.

A conscience lulled as a certain young detective retracted back from memories. Tender, yet pained in their depths, eyes peeked open. Engraved letters ran cold underneath a thumb, slowly feeling over each one, fingers following suit. A sigh filled chilling air, brown hair caught between a warm cheek that lay atop the cold granite of a gravestone.

It wasn’t often he came here, or often he entertained the memories of that woman. Still, during these times, amidst with his supposed rivalry with those thieves, his conviction waned. Was he failing his mother by doubting himself? Akechi wouldn’t allow her death to be in vain, for her suffering to mean nothing.

So many had died by his father’s hand, by his orders and in succession, Akechi’s own hands.  
Perhaps his mother was right about him. It may be possible her words held truth past him being an undesirable child.

For these doubts plaguing him, his mother’s burial site seemed appropriate enough to settle his worries. To come back to his foundation and rekindle his purpose.

Those difficult moments had passed and he would seek the revenge he sought for himself and his mother. Whispering these promises against the gravestone, Akechi consoled his doubts for the future.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I used 911 for the emergency services because I know if you call that in America you can contact both medical services and the cops. In Japan, there's two separate numbers for the services, so I didn't wanna do that for this. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoyed this.
> 
> Catch me on twitter @makouhas


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